


I keep seeing visions of you

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Reality Weaver’s Web [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Olympian Gods, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Angel Castiel, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Day At The Beach, Dean Winchester as Persephone, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Guard Dean Winchester, Hades Castiel, Honeymoon, Hunter Dean Winchester, M/M, Marriage, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Mythology - Freeform, Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Persephone Dean Winchester, Pharaoh Castiel, Pregnant Castiel, Professor Castiel, Reality Bending, Red String of Fate, Underworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:17:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Dean saw everything through a grainy video camera.The screen was black for a few seconds.  Dean heard the sound of laughter.His laughter.Only it wasn’t him.Like switching a radio dial, the screen was a grainy quality.  The first image he saw was of Cas.Only it wasn’t his Cas.  It couldn’t be.Because Cas would never lay shirtless on a messy futon for him.  With him.  Never.





	I keep seeing visions of you

**Author's Note:**

> To celebrate the one-year anniversary of my series “(No Longer A) Secret Marriage,” I did a second version of the Red String of Fate trope from Part 13. 
> 
> The title was taken from the song “Visions” by Maroon 5. I also included “Hey Jude” by The Beatles indicated with ellipsis. Enjoy!

Dean saw everything through a grainy video camera.

The screen was black for a few seconds. Dean heard the sound of laughter.

His laughter.

Only it wasn’t him.

Like switching a radio dial, the screen was a grainy quality. The first image he saw was of Cas.

Only it wasn’t his Cas. It couldn’t be.

Because Cas would never lay shirtless on a messy futon for him. With him. Never.

“You’re an absolute vision,” the awestruck man that was Not Dean whispered.

Video Cas raised an eyebrow, his tired eyes unimpressed. He messed up his nest of hair even more, batting his eyelashes. “My naked body better not end up online,” he grumbled, his limbs stretching as Other Dean crashed on the mattress beside him.

Other Dean laughed purely behind the camera, the image adjusting to a side view of Not His Cas. Other Cas rested his cheek on the pillow, his startling blue eyes clear even in the poor quality video. 

Dean had to agree. Other Cas was a vision, exposing himself so willingly to Other Dean.

Dean envied Other Dean.

Other Dean said, “this isn’t leaving this camera, or this tape. It’s for me.”

“For jerking off?”

Other Dean laughed, and Dean wanted to faint.

No way would his Cas say such a thing. This Cas was human. Had to be. Maybe Other Cas was never an angel in the first place.

Never an angel…

The video camera shut off abruptly, as if hearing his thoughts. Where there was once sound, there was a blaring noise, like a guitar being unplugged from an amp.

Then, silence.

————

The chamber was dark, slivers of light shafting through the large room.

Dean was surrounded by stone walls, hard floors, a ceiling higher than he could see. Slats in the walls provided light at a forty-five degree angle.

He caught sight of a mass of golden light to his left. He squinted his eyes, and turned his head in that direction.

Sat atop a throne composed of gold and fine jewels was Castiel. He wore the garb of a powerful pharaoh: a striped headdress, a kilt from waist to knee, and jeweled sandals. His body from chest to waist was gloriously built and exposed. Kohl thickened his eyebrows and lower eyelids, forming the shape of a cat’s intimidating eyes before it pounced. His tan skin glowed bronze, like an Egyptian statue, even in the abundance of shadows.

Castiel clicked a ruby ring onto the arm of his throne. Somehow, Other Dean knew to approach.

Based on the way Other Dean carried himself, and the positioning of his figure, he must be a guard.

Other Dean reached the throne and stayed a respectful distance. Two guards flanked a side of Castiel, boring into him to keep away. 

Other Dean knelt on one knee, his head tilted slightly downwards. “Pharaoh, how may I be of service?”

Other Castiel let the room settle in silence.

Then, piercing through the chamber like a cannonball, Castiel said, “leave us.”

The guards scattered like ants being flooded out of their hill home. The chamber entrance was sealed shut with a large stone scraping against the ground.

The jewels in Castiel’s headdress glimmered as he stood on his golden throne. He rose like a panther, fluid and prepared for anything.

Other Dean looked up through his eyelashes, still in his kneeled position.

“Rise, and come near,” Other Castiel ordered.

Other Dean rose to his full height, hesitating to move any closer. Castiel never allowed anyone near him, unless they were royalty or an advisor of some kind.

“Did you hear me? Come near,” Castiel said.

Other Dean walked forward slowly, halting an arm’s length away.

He had never seen Other Castiel this close up before. The Pharaoh smelled of sweet spiced wine, lingering on his breath from his first meal of the day. His tan skin was unblemished in any way, the model of a perfect Pharoah, one incorruptible and concerned with protecting his lands. Other Dean knew he was standing before the most beloved Pharaoh in Egypt, his godlike beauty matched by his cunning and kindness and ruthlessness when crossed. 

Castiel regarded him with catlike blue eyes. “State your full name to me.”

Other Dean ducked his head to show his status. He replied reedily, “Dean Winchester, Pharaoh.”

“You do not look upon me like the others in my service. Would you like to tell me why that is, Dean Winchester?”

Other Dean glanced impishly at royalty. “I do not understand, Pharaoh. I am to guard you, and I look upon you as I am required to, Pharaoh.”

“We already established that you do not,” Castiel said curtly. “I would like an answer.”

Other Dean’s gaze darted from blue eyes to a beige jeweled kilt to finely woven sandals. His cheeks flushed with shame. “It is a sin to answer, Pharaoh.”

Somehow, Other Castiel understood.

He said, “I am Pharaoh. I will decide what is sin in this palace.” Castiel stepped closer to Other Dean, and he was paralyzed. “I am a forward-thinking leader. And in this palace,” Castiel grasped the underside of Dean’s chin, Other Dean powerless to stop the tilt upwards, “I do not find love, in any form, to be a sin.”

Other Dean refused to level his gaze with the Pharaoh, still ashamed for lusting after him.

“I have not taken a wife,” Castiel said, “and I never will. Do you know why?”

Other Dean swallowed thickly. “Yes, Pharaoh.”

“You do speak. Good.” Castiel removed his grip from Other Dean’s jawline. “Do you feel shameful?”

Other Dean nodded, his gaze still averted.

“Do not. It is a waste of time.”

Other Dean looked upon Castiel, the way he did when he foolishly thought the Pharaoh wasn’t looking.

Castiel said, “come to my bedchambers tonight. You already know where they are.”

Other Dean batted his eyelashes at the bold proposition. He asked softly, “do you...do this often, Pharaoh?”

The Pharaoh laughed, a husky sound warming the cold throne room. “Oh,” he breathed, “you will be a jealous and possessive lover.” Castiel brought his hands back to Other Dean’s jaw, a thumb on his lips. “I have not had another since I was crowned. My hope is that I will not need another after you.”

Other Dean’s breath hitched. “Yes, Pharaoh.”

“When we are alone, you need not call me Pharaoh.” Castiel drew his hands along Other Dean’s jaw, tracing the shape of his features, up to his cheekbones. “The gods sculpted you well,” he observed. “You may call me by my sacred name. You may call me Cas.”

Like an old television switching off, the world Dean was immersed in disappeared with a single dot of light.

————

The grainy video returned, flicking back on in a different scene.

The Dean behind the video camera spoke to his Cas soothingly. “It’s okay, babe. You’re just nervous. First day jitters.”

Other Dean’s Cas paced throughout the frame, wearing a dress shirt and tweed jacket. He was clearly years older than when Dean saw the first video. That Cas was in his early twenties. This Cas was pushing thirty, if his glasses had any indication.

Other Cas said gruffly, “I never thought I’d be back there teaching. Y’know?”

Another difference between Angel Cas and this Human Cas. Dean’s angelic Cas rarely used contractions, and never mashed words together in such a manner.

Other Dean set the camera on a table, still recording. For the first time, Other Dean fully entered the frame.

Dean gasped, but no sound came out.

An exact replica of him. My God. Jesus Christ.

This was getting terrifying. Downright weird, and terrifying.

The only difference between Hunter Dean and Other Dean outwardly was their occupation.

Other Dean wore a mechanic jumpsuit.

And he got to caress Other Cas, touch Other Cas like Dean never could with his Cas.

Other Dean brushed his thumbs along Other Cas’s cheekbones, halting him in his whirlwind of thoughts. He spoke quietly, but loud enough for the camera microphone to pick up his words. “When I met you in high school, I knew I would follow you to the ends of the Earth. You were smart, and kind, and beautiful in your own way. You never looked down on me for not going to college, for pursuing my dream job at Bobby’s garage.” Dean, if he had a body, would recoil at the name. “We supported each other, and lived on my futon together, and ate only ramen for a year because I was barely getting enough money to pay rent, and you know what? We flourished, and we fell in love, and we lifted each other up. Look at us now. I’m partners with Bobby, and you’re going to be a professor at the university where you graduated summa cum laude and persevered through every obstacle. If anyone’s got this on lock, it’s you,” Other Dean kissed Other Cas’s forehead, “my magnificent fiancé.”

Dean wanted to faint and squeal girlishly at the same time on his more fortunate self’s behalf.

Other Cas melted into Other Dean’s embrace, nosing his cheek. “You’re great at pep talks. Sure you don’t want to be a motivational speaker?”

“Hah. No. Good luck, babe.”

The grainy video became corrupted, impossible to see the image. The camera switched off.

————

“How long is this going to last?” Dean asked into the abyss.

The darkness surrounding his disembodied voice lingered. As if acknowledging him.

However, there was no reply.

————

Other Dean sat in his bedchamber, tending to his plants.

As the god of vegetation, it was his task to uphold the beauty of his agricultural kingdom. His aura allowed all plants to thrive in his presence, trees growing strong trunks and vines sprouting thick foundations. The flower strains in his chambers, of all colors and types, practically had a life of their own. Crimson dahlias hung like lamps on his ceiling, yellow daffodils and white daisies decorated the walls, and multi-colored carnations sprung up along wooden furniture. For a finishing touch, Other Dean always made sure to water the wild white roses curled around his bedpost, spreading their sweet scent about the room.

Other Dean, after completing his personal tasks, lie on his king-sized mattress, wearing a silk white knee-length tunic woven with threads of gold about each hem.

He only had to wait a moment for Other Castiel’s presence to be sensed by his flowers.

The dahlia lamps curved towards the door as Other Dean heard loud boots against the ground. Daffodils and daisies wilted slightly, a single petal falling from each flower. Carnations curled in on themselves, as if wanting to hide in a turtle shell. The roses on his bedpost emitted a heady odor, reflecting the true feelings of Other Dean as Castiel framed the doorway.

If Other Dean was made of light, Other Castiel was made of darkness. Castiel’s complexion was as pale as the dead, black tones drowning out the gray-blue of his eyes. A metal crown stained black by the liquid of the River Styx and drowned in blood rubies perched on Other Castiel’s hair.

Castiel observed the plant’s reactions to him curiously, but ducked his head remorsefully. “I apologize for disturbing your beloved flowers, my king Persephone.”

Dean wanted to bristle. He was a male incarnation of a Greek goddess?

What?

Persephone lifted himself by the elbows, perched on the large mattress. His lips curved into a smile, his eyes sparkling. “You cannot help it, my king Hades. It is a risk I will gladly take.”

Cas is the Greek god of the Underworld?

What?

“You’re,” Hades raised an eyebrow, “happy to see me?”

Persephone lifted himself off the mattress, the white-gold garment swaying in an imaginary breeze. “Of course I am. You are my husband, are you not?”

Hades managed a poor imitation of the smile. “Are you ready to leave, my love?”

Persephone hummed bittersweetly. “I am only sad for my plants.” He frowned at the wilting daisies nearby. “They always die when I leave my mother’s palace.”

Hades deflated. “Do you ever...regret your choice to split your time between worlds, my dearest?”

“Oh!” Persephone shook his head. “No! The Fields of Asphodel need me as well. The trees need to stay strong and sturdy. The fruits and plants need to grow, despite their poisonous properties.”

“I never understood optimism,” Hades said, “but I’m glad you find comfort in aiding me as my consort.”

Persephone smiled softly, gliding to an oak dresser, adorned with light pink carnations. He procured the grape purple knee-length tunic he arrived at his mother’s palace in six months ago. Darker clothing was required for Persephone’s second life as Consort of the Underworld. 

Persephone saw his husband averting his gaze. He laughed. “There’s no need for that, my king.”

Persephone unclasped a shoulder button holding the white tunic together. The gold at the hem fluttered and the fabric swished as it fell off his torso. Persephone exposed his body to Hades flippantly, winking at Hades’ sudden bashfulness.

“I see that you’ve missed me,” Persephone teased.

A flash of color reached Hades’ pale cheeks. “Of course I do. But as long as you are happy, it is my pleasure to share half of your life.”

Persephone switched tunics, securing the deep purple garment with a single fastening at the waist. He brushed off the material and fixed any stray hairs with a hand swipe. “Hm...I’m missing something.”

“Two things,” Hades said. He procured a black circlet from his shadow cloak, encrusted with several large blood rubies. “Your crown, I can provide you with. As for your ring, I believe it would be in the bottom of your jewelry box.”

“Ah!” Persephone noted the dying flowers with Hades’ continued presence, but focused on the jewelry box, instead. He flipped open the clasp on the wooden box, taking a silver ring with a single ruby in his hand. He slipped it on his finger and shut the box. Persephone then glided to Hades, grasping the crown lightly. He placed the crown on golden hair, looking slightly out of place in the darker tones.

Dean could tell, though, as Persephone kissed Hades as a proper hello, that Persephone was content with being a god of two worlds.

————

The grainy video returned as the image of two gods kissing dissolved.

Other Dean neared Other Cas, who was lying on a lounge chair, clad in swim trunks. Dean was reminded of the first video, of a content shirtless Cas that his other self was privileged to love.

Other Cas pushed his sunglasses down as Other Dean made footprints in white beach sand, observing him with blue slivers. “Why is your old camera on?”

Other Dean gasped. “It’s not old.”

Not His Cas patted his thigh. “Come here. This is a private area of the beach.”

Other Dean hesitated, but drew closer, moving the camera to view a profile of them. With the camera free from his grip, Other Dean sat on Cas’s lap and tossed arms around his neck. Other Dean slipped off Cas’s sunglasses and rested them on his head. “Hey, honey. How’s your honeymoon?”

Other Cas chuckled. “It’s going well, husband. What do you think?”

Other Dean hummed. “It is, husband.” He glanced towards the camera, as if seeing through Dean’s soul. “Anything you wanna say to our future children who might find this tape in the basement one day?”

Other Cas laughed. “I sure hope they don’t find this, but if they do,” Cas looked at the camera, and Dean wanted to shiver, “I’d want them to know I will always love them as much as I love their Dad.”

“Aw,” Other Dean pecked Cas’s lips, “I wasn’t expecting that to be so sweet.” He cast a hand over their faces. “Look away, kids.”

Dean heard traces of laughter as the video camera switched off with a static sound.

————

“What is this place?” Dean asked in the darkness. “What’s going on?”

“Do you love him?” An echoing voice asked.

Dean would have been paralyzed if he had a body. “Who’s askin’?”

The voice plunged him into a world of light.

————

Dean had read about the concept of an ecotopia. The hypothesis that nature would rule the lands after a technological apocalypse.

Dean was thrown in the middle of a forest, a row of small huts and a bazaar nearby. The market bustled with people buying clothing and freshly-skinned animals.

It was a village. Only a few dozen or so lived there, and didn’t take notice of him.

Dean found Other Castiel at a clothing stand, a small child tugging at his brown kilt and linen shirt. “Papa!”

Other Castiel traded a coat for a blanket, clearly sewn by hand. Once the transaction was made, Other Castiel knelt down to the little boy’s level. “Yes, Jack?”

Dean gasped silently.

“I hear the alphas returning!” Jack exclaimed, pointing in the northwest direction.

Dean focused, and heard a rustling sound from behind several thick trees.

Alphas?

A pack of men and women riding horses broke the tree line, dead animals hung off the sides of leather saddles.

Other Dean lead the men and women forward, entering the village bazaar. The villagers allowed the pack of horses to pass through, Other Dean halting his horse at the clothing stall.

Other Castiel and Other Jack hung their heads in acknowledgment. Other Dean reached his hand out, leaning over three dead foxes hung on the side of his saddle.

Other Dean ruffled Other Jack’s hair with a smile, making the boy laugh in reckless abandon. The sound broke through the tense silence, lightening the mood of those around them. Then, Other Dean brushed his fingers along Other Castiel’s jawline, intimately swiping a thumb across his lips, as if kissing him in spirit. Other Castiel half-smiled, glancing upon the dead foxes and batting his eyelashes a single time.

Other Dean hummed in acknowledgement, neither of them communicating with words. After a lingering stare, Other Dean whistled, the horse moving forward again.

His pack followed him forward, to a large shack at the end of the village. A headquarters, Dean guessed.

Other Dean clearly lead the entire village, making him the most coveted and powerful person there.

And he chose Castiel. Of course he did.

The market was suddenly livelier than it was before, villagers chatting about the safe return and successful hunt of their ‘alphas.’

“Papa,” Jack said.

Other Castiel came back to himself, smiling down at the child Dean would never have with Angel Castiel. “Yes, my little one?”

“How big is little sister today?”

Other Castiel chuckled, placing a protective hand over his stomach. “She hasn’t grown since you last asked, my darling boy. These things take a long time, and require several moons of patience. Perhaps if you are chosen to be an omega, you will learn someday.”

Wait...what?

Other Castiel lead Other Jack away from the market area, taking a leisurely walk to the huts.

Other Jack asked, “does it hurt?”

“No, sweet boy.” Other Castiel rubbed his stomach. “Only when she grows large enough and wants to come into the world.”

Other Jack was silent as Castiel guided the boy inside the leftmost hut, shutting the door lightly.

The hut was larger inside than it looked. Blankets were hung up as room dividers. There was a seating area for eating meals, a cot for the boy, and bedding that Castiel and Other Dean shared.

Other Castiel set aside the new coat he had exchanged, folding it on the bedding.

Dean noted the coat had fur lining inside, and was dyed a green color for camouflage.

For his more fortunate self, Dean supposed.

As Other Castiel busied himself about the hut, Other Jack began playing with a set of whittled wooden animals. Dean saw a wolf, a deer, a bear, a rabbit, a jaguar, a monkey, and a fox scattered about Other Jack’s square of space. 

Dean wondered if he made them, or Castiel did.

The door opened, and Other Dean emerged, cleaned of animal blood and dirt.

“Dada!” Other Jack set down the whittled deer and scampered to Other Dean, hugging his leg.

Other Dean smiled easily, cupping the back of the boy’s head protectively. “Hello, my dear boy. Did you do a good job helping Papa today?”

Other Jack beamed and did a little jump. “I did!”

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Other Dean knelt to Jack’s level and kissed the crown of his head. “How about you do a big boy job for me?”

Other Jack gasped and jumped eagerly at the opportunity. “Okay!”

Other Dean chuckled at his enthusiasm. “I need you to shutter the windows from the outside, okay?”

“Okay!” Other Jack skipped outside the hut, setting to work joyfully.

Other Dean noticed the coat on the bed, Other Castiel turning to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Cas. I do need a new one, with winter approaching.”

“I figured as much,” Castiel said with an inclined head. “You’re welcome.”

Other Dean’s lips curved upwards. “Come here, my love.”

Other Castiel took measured steps across the hut, halting an inch from Other Dean’s kneeled position.

Other Dean lightly grasped Castiel’s hips, nuzzling his — now that Dean stared hard enough — slightly rounded stomach. Other Dean kissed at his stomach reverently, starting at the waist and stopping at Castiel’s abdomen. 

When that was done, Other Dean tilted his head up and asked, “how is our daughter today?”

Other Castiel replied with flushed cheeks, “she is hardly formed.”

“And I love her already,” Other Dean murmured.

“As do I,” Castiel said softly.

Other Dean stood slowly, cupping Castiel’s face in his hands. He asked softly, “how is my mate, unrivaled in beauty and wit, doing today?”

Other Castiel smiled wryly. “I am well, Dean. And you?”

“Well. Not a scratch on me.”

“I noticed.”

Other Dean pressed their lips together lightly. 

Other Jack barged in as they pulled back. “I did it, Dada!”

Other Dean smiled at the shuttered windows. “Yes, you did.”

The image faded from Dean abruptly.

————

And lo, another grainy video filled the darkness.

...And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain…

Other Cas held the camera, peeking the lens inside a nursery room. Two bundles of pink blankets were settled on Other Dean’s lap, secured by his arms. Other Dean sang softly as a wooden rocking chair silenced the fussy baby girls.

…Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders, for well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder…

Other Dean halted in his song as he noticed Other Cas in the doorway. He smiled shyly and puckered his lips. Other Cas chuckled quietly and blew a kiss to Other Dean.

The video dissolved.

————

The echoing voice returned in the black. “Do you love him?”

Since Dean learned he had to answer, he said truthfully, “I do. Why do you want to know?”

The abyss transformed into a cozy living room. A young woman sat with her legs crossed on a rocking chair. A bundle of yarn sat on the carpet, rainbow threads weaved in a gigantic blanket on her lap. The blanket fell from her lap all the way across the room, to the door, where he was once again brought back to flesh and blood.

Dean remembered how to move, his boots sinking against the carpet as he neared the woman. She had brunette hair, long waves reaching the middle of her back. Her skin and eyes were the shade of caramel, clad in black clothing. Knitting needles rested on her thigh, her progress paused by Dean’s arrival.

Dean asked, “who are you?”

The young woman had a shockingly soft voice. “I am the Reality Weaver.”

“Reality...Weaver?” Dean scanned his mind on lore books. “I’ve never heard of such a race.”

“It is not a race. It is a position taken up by a new female seer every millennia.”

“Uh huh...and what century are you on?”

“Four.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “I see. Now why are you taking an interest in me?”

The Reality Weaver smiled wryly. “In you and Castiel,” she amended. The Reality Weaver lifted up a section of the blanket. “This is Reality. Every color of yarn represents a timeline adjacent to your own.”

Dean pointed to the blanket, raising an eyebrow. “Then you probably know this isn’t the weirdest conversation I’ve had.”

The Reality Weaver chuckled. “Perhaps it’s in your top ten. Now,” she cleared her throat, “I’m interested in you and Castiel because,” she paused, “have you ever heard of the Red String of Fate?”

Dean tried to recall what he could. “It’s Japanese, isn’t it? Something about...souls.”

“Soulmates,” the Reality Weaver corrected. “It is the Japanese belief that soulmates, while born apart, are attached in every reality by a red string that draws them together.”

“What are you saying?” Dean scoffed. “That Cas and I...no.”

The Reality Weaver said, “yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

“And you’re doing all this...why, exactly?”

“You are currently in the only timeline where you and Castiel are apart.”

Dean snorted. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think an angelic warrior who’s been brainwashed several times and is prone to be a flight risk would want to be shackled to me.”

The Reality Weaver shook her head, making an exasperated noise. “You still don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

“Loved,” Dean said. “I don’t deserve to be loved. You’re a...Reality Weaver. You know why. You know the truth.”

“The truth.” The Reality Weaver smiled bitterly. “The truth is you are blind.”

“Rude,” Dean muttered.

“It’s funny,” she said, “how you phrased that sentence. ‘I don’t deserve to be loved.’ You haven’t taken into account the fact that,” the Reality Weaver leaned forward, as if telling a secret, “you are already loved by your Castiel, as much as you are by the other Castiels I’ve shown you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I wouldn’t have disrupted the very fabric of your reality if this were, quote, ‘bullshit.’”

Dean crossed his arms, stewing in the information. “You showed me those realities to tie up a loose end.”

“I showed you those realities,” the Reality Weaver said, “because I’m always rooting for you both. I want you and Castiel to complete the Red String of Fate’s mission of bringing you together in every timeline.”

Dean pursed his lips. “Okay, Miss Reality Weaver. I sense no ill will or bad intentions from you. Were you really,” he asked hesitantly, “trying to help me?”

“I am,” the Reality Weaver replied. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Uh oh.”

“Promise me,” she beseeched, “you will tell the angel Castiel how you feel.”

Dean sighed, not having it in him to argue any further. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The scene changed one final time.

————

The video camera returned, the quality of the tape greatly improved.

The sound of giggling children filled the camera microphone, the screen bright and dreamlike.

Two little girls, who looked to be five or six, ran around each other in circles. They were in a large open field, red geraniums dotting the green landscape. The girls laughed, Other Dean and his Cas lying on a picnic blanket.

Other Cas had begun to age again, nearing his forties. Gray hairs settled on his temples and sideburns, his glasses changing to a turtle-patterned pair.

Other Cas recognized the camera on him and raised an eyebrow. “How in the world does that camera still work?”

Other Dean replied, “sheer force of will.”

The couple laughed softly together, the screen focusing on Other Cas holding Other Dean’s hand. Wedding bands shimmered in the sunlight on both of their hands, creating one of the prettiest pictures Dean could ever hope for in his own life.

“Claire, Alex!” Other Cas called out. “Come eat!”

The two girls halted in their play and skipped to the picnic blanket, emitting soft giggles.

The video camera faded to black. The tape was finished, filled with fifteen years of happy memories.

————

Dean awoke in his bunker bedroom with a gasp.

His head shot up, his hands propping him on the mattress. He remembered how to breathe regularly.

Was that real?

Dean looked over at the clock. It read 10:35 AM.

He never slept this late. It must have been real.

Dean got out of bed and went to his conjoined bathroom. He showered and shaved his stubble quickly, losing himself in the motions of the usual routine.

It was near lunchtime when Dean emerged out of his bedroom and went to the war room, dressed in jeans and his blue flannel.

Sam and Jack were across from each other around the map table, in the middle of their respective lore books.

Sam noticed him first, raising an eyebrow. “You were dead as a doornail, man.”

“It’s true,” Jack murmured. “He made me poke you.”

Sam shot Jack a look. He shrugged and blushed sheepishly.

Dean put on his gravelly voice. “No cases, obviously?”

“No, you’re good,” Sam replied curtly. “Cas is making soup for lunch.”

“Alright. I’ll check on him,” Dean said casually.

Dean crossed the room and entered the kitchen.

His Cas was dressed down, in jeans Sam had bought him the other week and an old tee of Dean’s. His back was to Dean as he tended to the large soup pot on the stove.

Dean cleared his throat. 

Cas’s profile came into view. “Did you sleep well, Dean?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Cas turned around fully, leaving the stove flame on low heat. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you...ill?”

“No.” Dean curled his lip upwards in an effort to reassure him. “I’m okay.”

“Would you like chicken noodle soup?”

“Sure.” Dean pursed his lips. “Um. Can we talk?”

“We are talking.”

“I meant...about something.”

“I see.” Cas turned the dial on the burners even lower, then directed his attention to Dean. “Yes?”

“I know this seems kinda,” Dean blushed, “outta the blue an’ all, but,” he chuckled awkwardly, “I think you show know that I...I care about you. A lot.”

“Okay,” Cas said blandly, “I knew that.”

“I mean,” Dean clenched his fist in a nervous tick, “I mean as...more than a friend.”

“Ah,” Cas folded his arms, “I see. You’ve come to terms with it.”

Dean’s mouth fell open, his body at a standstill. “C-come to terms with it?” His mind spiraled as to what that meant, and he nearly fainted. “You knew?!”

Cas smiled bitterly. “I have watched many of your ‘rom coms’ over the years. I am far better at understanding humans than I used to be.”

“O-of course. Of course you are.” Dean frowned. “How did you know?”

“I knew of my own feelings for you long ago,” Cas revealed. “You, as they say, ‘clued me in’ with nonverbal cues.”

“And you didn’t,” Dean furrowed his eyebrows, “say anything? Why?”

Cas batted his long eyelashes a single time. He replied demurely, “it is not my job to tell you what you feel. You must realize it in your own time.”

“So you’ve been,” Dean said exasperatedly, “waiting all this time for me to make the first move?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you make the first move, if you knew I was into you?”

“I needed you to be sure of yourself. Therefore, it was always you that had to make,” Cas did air quotes, “‘the first move.’”

Despite wanting to snap, Dean laughed instead. He laughed and laughed, his head tipping back as he looked at the ceiling and smiled.

“Alright.” Dean chuckled, grinning at Cas because he didn’t know how else to react. “Have I been a fool all this time?”

Cas’s side smile brightened his gorgeous tan skin and lively blue eyes. “I would never call you a fool.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

Cas’s mouth curved slyly. “You like to pick fights when you’re avoiding an uncomfortable topic. I never noticed that until now.” Cas stepped forward slowly, halting a respectful distance from Dean. “Isn’t there something you’re forgetting to do?”

Dean scoffed, redness consuming his neck and cheeks. “I’m not sure what’ll happen...if we...if we.”

Cas nodded in understanding. “I suppose it is my turn to take the leap.”

Then, Cas took Dean’s face in his hands, pressing their lips together lightly, barely the brush of a feather.

Dean exhaled shakily, the quick touch intoxicating in its simplicity. He desperately wanted more, so he brought their lips together again, and again, and again. They breathed in tandem between each peck, holding each other in an embrace so tight Dean felt his ribcage ache.

Cas gave Dean’s lips one final drag, parting with a soft exhale. His half-lidded eyes and splayed palms were Dean’s entire world, the way Cas’s eyes looked at him adoringly and the way Cas’s hands held his face gently. It was all Dean knew, and all he wanted to know.

Dean murmured, “I dreamt we loved one another in multiple worlds.”

Cas didn’t even bat an eye. “That sounds like a lovely dream.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought by leaving kudos and/or comments!


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